Of Ice and Inferno
by The Things I've Seen
Summary: Anna is with child. In an attempt to save her future niece or nephew, Elsa travels to the land of Holoska, where the cruel King Hadyn reigns. Across the border, Abaddon exists, where Hans must carve out a living with a rogue thief. AU, post-movie, OCs out the wazoo.
1. Preface

"So, um, Elsa, hi, it's me, but, uhm, Kristoff and I have a funny story to tell you…" Anna's sheepish as she leans over the desk that Elsa's been hunched over for about three hours. Elsa can't help but frown a bit as Anna's elbows wrinkle some reference papers concerning the current state of the crops near the eastern borders of the queendom.

Elsa sighs a bit, but she's smiling wearily again as she sets aside her current documents, looking up at her ginger younger sister. "Yes, what is it?"

"Alright, well," Anna says, her heels off the edge of the floor, "let's say, hypothetically, that two months ago, Kristoff and I, err, did something, and, well, now we think that, maybe, I'm with child. I mean, this is just hypothetically, and this is a story, but, um, wouldn't it explain those chocolate-covered tomatoes I asked for a couple nights ago?"

Elsa's face blanches a bit; she's not sure whether to be elated for her sister, or worried for the sanity of the child that might be inside of her – because, well, it's Kristoff and Anna, after all. And she loves Anna, and she respects Kristoff (he's better than "the other man", a million times better, and he appreciates her ice powers...not to mention how he's incredibly sweet to Anna, and treats her like the royalty she is), but, well, how awkward and adorable and _utterly hyper_ could their child possibly wind up being?

Anna notices how her sister's frowning, how her face paled, how her face is now lined with fear and worry…and she knew that this was a bad idea, introducing this subject to her sister this quickly after the Great Thaw. It's only been three, four months, and they're having enough trouble getting closer together and helping Elsa feel _well_ without adding a baby into the mix of everything.

She starts to apologize before Elsa can say a word. "I'm sorry, Elsa, I shouldn't have brought it up right now, now isn't the best time, I just, I'm really excited, okay? I'm really excited, because a baby, I'm most likely pregnant, that's what the doctor said, and I thought you'd like being an aunt, and –"

"Anna, no, don't think like that." Elsa's grabs Anna's hands, tender, as warm as a Snow Queen can be. She smiles, a bit forced, but not too much. "I'm happy, really. I'm happy you and Kristoff are expecting; you'll be great parents."

Anna's smile makes everything worthwhile, despite Elsa's underlying worries.

There's a book that lies in the castle library. It claims to be a fiction book, depicting magic and legends of the kingdom, bound in thick leather, its pages creamy, yellow parchment.

Elsa goes to visit the book hours after her daily paperwork is done, and Kristoff and Anna are fast asleep. Olaf is off being Olaf with Sven, so she needn't worry about them intruding. She informed her primary guardsmen, Ulrik and Cai she needn't have anyone bother her while she's researching (what she's researching, she didn't say).

The book is heavy, large, wedged between a book informing of the trolls near the kingdom's boundaries, and another of wildlife nearby the borders. It's dark blue, wrinkled, old; its chronologies depict the prophecies that are now eerie in their predictions.

" _The Great Thaw would affect all of Arendelle; the Snow Queen, having been reunited and in her proper throne, would experience several months of prosperity within her borders before learning an heir would soon be born. However, the fear of the heir having powers akin to hers' would be too great; she would need to do only one thing to wholly quell that paranoia inside her._

" _And so, the Queen travelled to a faraway land, in order to find the elemental crystals that would ensure no powers would be born to another royal generation…"_

Elsa does wonder whether her parents actually read this book, but she thought better of it. Mama preferred the botany books nearby; Papa was too busy to read much, especially with the added burden of having a cursed daughter—

No. No, gifted. She was gifted.

But she didn't want her niece or nephew to be 'gifted' with similar powers. Not that she wouldn't love the child if he or she had powers to control ice, or fire, or plants, or whatever; of course she would, and she would ensure the child that they were loved by everyone.

But, well. Powers are powers, and there were still some woefully misunderstood people in the kingdom – and nearby kingdoms – that just wouldn't get that the powers didn't have to be seen as wholly evil or monstrous. And she didn't want the child to have to experience such complex reactions at such a young age.

Elsa doesn't even spend ten minutes inside the library before calling one of the younger guards in. Ulrik was the son of a guardsman who had cautiously protected her Papa years ago. Ulrik isn't the most imposing or the bravest of guardsmen, but he had travelled alongside his father for years before his apprenticing, and he knows many other royal kingdoms and queendoms and what was notable in them.

"Y-yes, my Queen?" Ulrik stammers upon entering the room. His guard's clothes are a size too large on him, Elsa notes; his face is red, and his eyes are wide and curious. He looks more like a sixteen-year-old on the first day of the job, rather than a twenty-three-year-old who has known the importance of the guards since he was born to Bernhard and Eva decades ago.

She gives him a warm, reassuring smile. "Do you happen to know what the elemental crystals are?"

She can almost see the swelling pride that bursts inside him. She's known Ulrik for years; she knows he loves being chosen for information about the whereabouts of something outside Arendelle.

"They're on the boundaries of Holoska and Abaddon. Holoska is ruled by Queen Isabella the Second, and Abaddon, well, I never even got to meet the Prince Hadyn, though he's a king now…he was always a shut-in, my Queen, unfortunately, much like you were before your coronation…But even after his coronation... Hadyn _does_ allow visiting royals into his kingdom. Just don't expect him to be rambling on to you. The fire and earth crystals are more in Abaddon, and Holoska is where the water and air crystals are. Fire crystals are also near the trolls' land, my Queen, but they're considerably weaker than the ones in Abaddon."

Elsa gives him another smile, appreciating his information and his thoroughness. She was half-curious about the nearby fire crystals, after all; at least she knew of their potential, even if it was weaker than the ones in Holoska. "Ulrik, I want you and Cai to go and begin packing your things and preparing the boat. We're going to have to travel to Holoska and Abaddon soon."

"Why, my Queen? I apologize for being nosy, but, well, crystals are used for either weakening powers, rite of passages, or combining magic for greater potential. Are you planning on…?" Ulrik needn't finish his inquiry; Elsa knows what he's trying to say.

"No, Ulrik, I have no plans on weakening or gaining more powers," Elsa sighs, "I'll inform you of my intentions when we're on our way, alright? Now, go and do as I say. Queen's orders." She smirks a little, letting him know she's not being wholly bossy (for now).

Ulrik gives a shaky, crooked smile, then leaves, presumably to do as he's told. Elsa closes the book, having scribed the crucial information she read on a piece of parchment.

She certainly hopes that Anna won't be too opposing of her wishes. She'll feel horrible if Anna denies this. But it's just in case. It couldn't hurt. Right?

Regardless, Elsa doesn't sleep.


	2. Chapter 1

Author's Note: Thanks for the follows/favorites, guys. I'm sorry that I couldn't update for over a year; life got in the way. But now I've got a clear schedule, and I'm able to write more!

Hans wants me to begin telling his part of the story, so we can learn of his fate thus far while Elsa prepares for her journey. ;) (I'm a sucker for Hans.)

I hope you enjoy this chapter, and please review.

* * *

Abaddon is a land that dwells in crookedness and suspicion. It's the perfect place for an ex-prince to be banished to for a lifelong punishment.

It is a small island situated north-east of the Southern Isles. A long, long time ago, Abaddon was once a fixture of the Twelve Isles, one of the shining places of academic and literary achievement. Abaddon was known for its bountiful renaissances, with a great chunk of its trading being of the arts and of the sciences.

That was centuries ago, however; following King Logan's tyrannical rule, prosperity in Abaddon began to halt. Then came the Great Wars, bloody and harsh, killing perhaps an entire isle's worth of citizens all across the Twelve Isles, and Abaddon never climbed out of the hole it dug.

Hans scowls as he draws his shawl closer to him, hunched together as he traverses down the marketplace. Cobbled stone, slick with rainwater, slides against his once shiny shoes; the howls and calls of prospective marketers and entrepreneurs ring in his ears, harsh and loud and annoying, as many commoners seem to be.

It was Aksel's proposition to send Hans here, to this desolate place, as banishment for his sins and crimes. "You are not worthy of being near our family anymore; you've soiled the family name and reputation with your vile, manipulative ways. I doubt whether any of us have the desire to see you near our land or our family ever again. I send you to Abaddon, where you will remain for the rest of your life."

Casper was the only one of Hans' brothers who showed even the slightest sign of remorse or sadness at his leaving. He was in his 38th Summer then, the third brother, the sole brother who had not ever truly teased him as much as the others'. But then again, Casper had always been too busy for the rest of them; betrothal to Britta, the soon-after arrival of Cai and Bjorn, learning politics and history and anything he was curious about…No, family had never been situated high upon his list of priorities.

And so his traversing began, seven long days and eight longer nights aboard a tiny, dilapidated ship. The pungent scent of sea air, along with rotting wood, was his main sign that they had not yet arrived; otherwise, Hans' was left in the dark, putrid cell, as if he were nothing but the carcass of a reindeer waiting to be shipped off to another land.

He stifles a yawn as he finishes wallowing in the recent past. It has been two weeks; the 900 coins that Aksel had shoved roughly into his hands had long since disappeared, most of it being depleted on outlandishly priced food. He is as poor as a commoner now (he sneers at the thought of being one of them), and now he must either steal or get a job in order to obtain a living.

Hans was never one to have any particular talent, especially since a boy of his class was never thought to have become any sort of apprentice; the blacksmithing, farming, and many other professions were for the middle class boys, and more so the poor children. He could have become a member of the clergy, but that would have had to start eight years prior, and Hans had neither the desire nor the patience to be one of them.

So, by reasoning of pure logic, Hans assumes that he has no other choice but to put his hands where they don't belong.

He clenches one hand fleetingly, then flicks it as he sets his eyes upon a piece of fruit dangling precariously on the end of a stand. Making sure no one can see him, he snatches it, shoving it inside his sleeve, sighing in relief when he is sure he wasn't spotted.

For the next few moments, no one seems to notice his existence. His act of thievery doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things. Slowly, Hans' breathing begins to return to normal.

He knows the penalty for petty theft. Often, those who stole would find themselves without a hand. Those who bothered to report thieves to guards find them without a hand and doomed to work in one of the mines, or the guards' towers, or forgotten in a dungeon somewhere, rotting away in shackles.

As he weaves his way through the crowds, he drops the fruit into his pocket. He feels confident, for at least he can do this one thing for the time being.

That's when he gets shoved to the side by a something in a black cloak, and hears someone shouting "Stop! Thief!", and his heartbeat starts to race again.

It could be the person in the cloak, but what if someone noticed both of them? What if they're looking for him?

Better safe than sorry.

Hans hurries his pace, trying to keep a calm and collected composure. Hopefully, if those near him are suspicious, he can just pass it off as trying to get to work, or to church, or to something…

As he hears more accusations of thievery in the marketplace, and as he hears someone calling for the guards, he quickens his speed, praying to the Gods that he doesn't get caught, that they aren't calling for him, that he won't slip and fall on the slick stoned path, that he doesn't get thrown in jail or in the mines or in the towers—

It's been several minutes now since the first call for help began. He hears guards unsheathing their swords, and hears grumbles from the people. His heart is beating quicker than a hummingbird's wings now, and his mind tells him that it's safe to hide as soon as possible, maybe in an alleyway or something.

He sees just what he needs up ahead; an alleyway, probably filthy and grimy, but better than getting his hand chopped off by Abaddon's guards.

Fleetingly, he ducks into the alley, praying nobody noticed anything suspicious about him. He quiets his breathing, leaning into the shadows as he watches people pass the alley by without a second glance. After, perhaps, a minute or two, he sees tall, bulky men wearing navy blue guardsmen uniforms, their swords slightly unsheathed, gripped tightly in their gloved hands. They run by the alleyway, not even bothering to throw a half-hearted look towards the dingy place.

Hans sights in relief, closing his eyes, feeling the dampness of the rain-soaked bricks against his head. He starts to breathe normally now; the adrenaline that raced through him moments ago is now beginning to dissipate.

Then, he feels someone punching his arm. He jerks his eyes open in shock, moving away from the wall and deeper into the shadows.

In his moments of fear, he didn't even notice someone was in the alleyway with him. He can make out a figure now, a small, unimposing person wearing a cloak.

Hans assumes immediately that this person was the one who caused him so much trouble (or, maybe, saved him from being caught).

"Who the hell are you?" The cloaked figure says. By the pitch of their voice, this fellow thief is clearly a girl. Her face is hidden in the shadows, but Hans can make out the miniature stature now that he has figured out that she won't kill him (at least, not yet).

"Don't you _recognize_ who I am?" Hans sneers, glaring down at the girl.

She doesn't hesitate in her reply. "An idiot."

Hans wishes dearly that he still had his sword in possession. She does not deserve to breathe another minute, not when you insult a Westergaard, not when you are as worthless and dare to insult—

"You look constipated." She says, taking a few steps back, leaning against the damp brick wall.

Hans rubs his temples and sighs, his mental tirade quelled (for the moment, at least). "I'm not."

"Did I say I care?" She replies tersely.

She doesn't know who he is. He may be able to use this to his advantage. But first, he wants to see the face of the girl who dared insulted a Westergaard (even if she didn't know she was talking to royalty). "Take off your hood." Hans says, trying to take on an authoritative tone of voice.

Even with the cloak on, Hans can see her shoulders tense up. "Why should I? Ya might be a guard, or somethin'. Like a spy."

"Now _you're_ being the idiot. I'm not a spy. Did you not notice I was running away from the guards, too? I was stealing, just like you." He takes a step towards the girl, grabbing her wrist (which, he notices, are protruding awkwardly, hardly any meat under the skin, from the ratty and torn ends of the sleeve).

"Leggo of me!" She says, trying to yank out of his grasp.

Hans smirks a bit, tightens his grip on her, and shakes his head. "Now, now. For all I know, you might be trying to run off and tell on me. After all, I'm another thief, aren't I?"

The pitch of her voice grows higher with each word, a near squeak at the end. "I'm not gonna go and snitch!"  
And that's when Hans gets an idea. He takes a breath, and loosens his grasp just enough so that she'll notice. "How about I proposition you, hmm? I'm not such a bad guy, after all. I can be persuaded." The possibility of the power trip – of the hunt, of gaining another person's trust, even if little by little – sends his ego whirling up into the air.

She goes quiet for a moment. Then, her voice grows from high-pitched and desperate to fiery, full of rage. "Who the hell told ya I did that sorta stuff? I stopped a long time ago! I'm willing to do a lot to get food, mister, but no way in hell am I gonna go and offer my body—"

"I don't want your body." Hans interrupts her, imagining Anna, imagining how calm and cool he could act around the redheaded princess, trying to pretend that this girl is her in order to become suave, charming, sophisticated Hans Westergaard. "I would never ask for something like that in return for silence."

"Then whaddya _want_ from me?" She hisses.

"Well, first," the redheaded man says, "let's take that hood of yours' off. Please?"

She pauses briefly, then says, "Let go of my hand, first."

She's at least clever enough to proposition him. Hans loosens his grip just a tiny bit more. "Swear that you won't run off."

"Swear on all tha kings and queens on every one o'the Twelve Isles." The girl replies.

Reluctantly – for even Hans isn't one to break swears – he lets go of her. Surprisingly, she doesn't scurry off as soon as he does. Instead, she takes off her hood – slowly, but surely.

She isn't as young as he presumed. Judging by her statue, he thought she was thirteen, fourteen at the most. But the girl is a woman, perhaps around Hans' age. She has extremely fair hair that falls down to her shoulders, with cold grey eyes, and pale, pale skin. Her face isn't as bony as her wrists are, but she is still fairly skinny. There's a scowl on her face that Hans suspects is perpetual.

"You're not a kid." Hans says after a moment.

She furrows her eyebrows and glares up at him. "Hardly."

"I'm sorry," he says (half-sincerely), "You're just very…petite." He doesn't want to say 'short', per say. Best to try and not to press her buttons (for now, at the least).

"And you're very tall." The girl – no, woman – replies. He smiles at that, very briefly – it is amusing how she has to tilt her head up in order to get a decent glimpse of him.

Hans straightens his back involuntarily. "Six-foot-one."

"I dunno how tall I am." She shrugs.

He takes a sweeping glance at her, and then estimates, "You look, perhaps, like you barely reach five feet."

The woman straightens her back, as well, as if trying to prove something to someone she's known for, perhaps, ten minutes (at most). "My ma was short, m'kay?"

Hans nods. "And what about your father, might I ask?" It's best to distract her with idle conversation for a bit before getting back to the propositioning.

She shrugs once again. "Never met him." Her shoulders slump a bit, and she glances behind Hans for a moment, as if there's someone behind him (though of course there isn't).

"A shame." He replies tersely. This, he can tell, is a subject the woman doesn't want to discuss in detail. "Now, if I may ask, may I know your name?"

"It's…Alexis." The way she pauses and bites her bottom lip before answering is a dead giveaway.

Well, fine. If she won't tell him her real name, then Hans' won't tell her his, either. "I am Matthias."

"Awright." 'Alexis' responds, folding her arms across her chest. Hans notices that her lips have already gone back to scowling. "Now, whaddya want in order for you t'not tell?"

"I would appreciate it if you could give me shelter for a few days. You see, recently, my home…well, I lost it. It…burnt down in a fire. This happened about a week ago. You may have heard of it." As his story of woe begins to unravel, Hans can already see the possibilities of earning her trust. "I lost everything, and like you, I've had to resort to stealing to survive."

Alexis seems to ponder this for a few seconds, then says, "Never heard of anyone's house burnin' down."

"A stray spark from my fireplace caught my floorboards aflame. I was only lucky to be outside when this happened. It occurred a few towns over, in Hesel." Hans lies swiftly. He thanks the Gods for allowing him to practice the art of fibbing during his life. "I decided to travel here in order to start a new life. Unfortunately, I was unaware of how sparse this town is in terms of employment." He flashes what he considers to be a charming smile, a mixture of nervousness and naivety.

"Sorry t'hear." Alexis says, and to his ears, it sounds sincere.

Hans nods, slumping his shoulders in what he hopes resembles somber resignation. "It's okay. I've come to accept my fate."

"I don't got any room in my home, though. There's barely enough room for me, much less you." She says pointedly, jabbing Hans in the chest, as if blaming his height and stature.

"I can make do with even a small bit of space." Hans replies. "I'll even help you with stealing."

At this, the blonde girl laughs, as if Hans is a small boy wanting to join in the older kids' game. He remembers his siblings shutting him out, because he was just so littler than him, and if he could only be a couple years older, he could play with them whenever he wanted, and he would never ever have to face rejection –

"What, you? You're not good at stealing. I can tell. You ran when the guards weren't even yelling at you. You're a dead giveaway." Alexis says condescendingly, and Hans' blood boils. "You'd need trainin'."

"Then train me." Rather than let his sloppily crafted plan fall apart so soon, Hans wants to be able to keep up the charade for as long as possible. "I am a quick learner. It wouldn't take more than a week. Then, once I know exactly what to do, we can steal together. I could provide distractions, maybe. And even if you deem me unfit to assist you, then I can do chores around your home. I'm betting that it's difficult to keep a tidy home when you're out doing this all day."

"With my luck, you'd take whatever I've got left, then turn me in." She replies quickly.

Hans decides to pull out the 'gentleman' card. "I would never steal from a lady, especially one as pretty as you."

"Don't go all flatterin' on me." Alexis says, though he can see the slightest hint of a blush in her sallow cheeks.

Hans smiles once more. "It's true. I would never." He repeats, hoping that she crumbles soon.

"Swear on it?" Alexis questions after a bit of hesitation.

"I swear on all the kings and all the queens of the Twelve Isles, and on all kings and queens before them." Hans says. Now he is truly bound to not stealing from her (not that he wanted to in the first place – he assumes that she has nearly nothing of value to him, anyhow).

She sighs heavily, and puts her cloak back up. "Awright then. You don't gedda bed, and I can't promise three meals a day, but it's better'n the streets."

Finally. He smiles genuinely. "Thank you. I appreciate it greatly." And he _has_ been sleeping on the streets since he landed in Abaddon. At first, he wondered why his brothers never secured proper sleeping arrangements for him, but then he realized that they simply don't care about what happens to him anymore. He hadn't quite accepted sleeping in alleys, without a blanket or even a pillow, but at least he can sleep sideways in her home.

"Yeah, yeah. Don't get all sappy on me. I'm not good with that kinda stuff." Alexis replies. "D'you got a hood?"

When Hans shakes his head in the negative, the blonde girl sighs again. "Gods. You don't even have a hood? Tha' hair of yours's gonna cause us hell. There aren't a lotta redheads in this part of town. I guess we can always make ya a hood…"

And that's where Hans begins to stop listening whole-heartedly. After a quick instruction of "just don't draw attention to yourself on the way home," he begins to focus more so on what his long term plans are. The thing is, he really doesn't have any. Day-to-day survival became his priority once he arrived at Abaddon. But now, he has this Alexis girl giving him shelter, with the added bonus of thievery lessons. He can focus on planning what he'll do after he leaves this girl behind.

Before he can make any concrete plans, however, they arrive at a tiny home on the outskirts of the town. It looks hastily crafted, and at least thirty years old, crafted of straw, mud, and stone. There were thin curtains where a door ought to be; no windows were to be found, at least from what he could see. This was a house for peasants. The most destitute of peasants, as well – those who at least could make a living had crops, or farm animals, or blacksmithing tools. Hans could see none of this.

Alexis draws the curtain, darting inside. Hans has to duck down a bit in order to fit, but he can at least stand upright once he's in the home. He draws the curtain for Alexis.

The floor is cold, made of thin wood. There's a fireplace, at the least, with a small table and two benches up pressed up against the wall. There's a cauldron near the fireplace, as well as animal fat-made candles on the table. A loom is shoved into one corner of the room, near a small chest. Hans notices shoddily-crafted hooks on one of the walls, as well as a hole in the center of the ceiling. He sees one window, finally, already boarded up with shutters.

"Where's your bed?" He asks.

Alexis glares at him. "Th' pile of straw over there. What makes you think I've got enough for a bed?"

"Oh, I just, I never realized…" Hans coughs. He has to play along. "I wasn't destitute, that was all. I always had a bed."

"Well, get used to the floor." She replies, fishing something out of her pockets. A dense loaf of bread, burnt at the bottom. She puts it on the table.

Hans sighs, and puts his shawl on one of the hooks. He pulls the fruit he stole out of his own pocket. It's an orange, he realizes now; expensive, but delicious.

He notices Alexis eyeing it, and holds it up. "Would you like some? Half an orange for half of the bread."

She shakes her head. "You can't eat that much. You have to ration it out." She tears apart the loaf of bread; first into halves, then into quarters. "A quarter of it is enough to keep you going. Unless you're rich enough to have a real bed," she says, sounding bitter, "then you're gonna feel empty for a while."

Hans nods in understanding, choosing not to reply to her insult. "I'll be fine. A slice of orange for each of us, then?"

"Now you're making sense." Alexis says.

Ten minutes later, the orange peels are in a pile in a bowl, and the two have already consumed their dinner. Hans sees through the thin slits in the shutters that night has nearly arrived, and when he glances over at Alexis, he sees she is already laying down, her head on a piece of wood.

"You'll have to get yourself straw tomorrow," she says, wrapping her cloak around her tightly.

Hans nods as he grabs his shawl and lies down on a section of the floor. "I'll make do for tonight."

"You better."

He draws the cloth around his shoulders, getting used to the stiff, chilly floors. "Thank you for the piece of bread, by the way. I appreciate it."

"Yeah, yeah." Alexis responds, turning away from him. "You'll pay me back for it one day."

"I will." Hans says, and for the thousandth time, wishes that he were still at home, in the Southern Isles, where he rightfully belongs.

"Tomorrow, I'll start teaching you how to steal. You better be a quick learner like you said you are. Get some rest; we'll be working all day." Her no-nonsense attitude is obvious. If she were born into a higher class, Hans thinks, she could have become a tutor for royal children.

He doesn't respond, and she doesn't say anything more. Soon, Alexis' breathing goes even, and Hans hears her snoring softly. Hans doesn't know when he falls asleep, but knows it is only after moonlight starts hazily drifting in through the shutter's slits.

He dreams of ice and of long boat rides to the Southern Isles, of big brothers who abandoned him, of a redheaded girl who once trusted him, of oranges and fair hair. It's a discombobulated collage of recent occurrences, and he can't quite make out any sort of plot. But it's better, he supposes, than nightmares of frozen hearts and monstrous creations crafted of snow and ice.

Just like it's better to sleep on these wooden floors than it is to snooze lightly in the alleyways of this town, praying that no one mugs or stabs him.


	3. Chapter 2

Author's Note: Thanks for the review, Shawn Raven! Unfortunately, this chapter doesn't feature Hans, but it does have quite a bit of Elsa, as well as a lot of information about Holoska and its' king. Enjoy, and don't forget to review if you're so inclined!

Anna loves the idea of having a baby, really, she does. She likes to imagine a squishy, pudgy little thing, all giggly and wide-eyed and rosy-cheeked. She thinks of Kristoff holding a tiny baby boy or girl, them giggling when their Aunt Elsa makes snowflakes to amuse them, dressing them up in cute clothes and seeing them try chocolate for the first time and them saying "I love you" and "Mommy" and "Daddy".

Her heart melts, over and over again, at all the mental images that pop up.

Kristoff is somewhat cautious at the idea, she knows. He doesn't really know what to do when caring for a child. But once they have the baby, Anna believes he'll be a fantastic father.

She's lounging at the end of the majestic staircase in the great hall, reading a book about pregnancy. She knows some of the basics, from what her mother had mentioned in brief conversations before her passing. Throwing up at all hours of the day, feeling the baby kick, weird cravings and painful childbirth and the blissful feeling of getting to hold your own baby for the first time…

"Hey, Anna?" Elsa's voice is quiet, the way she gets when she's concerned about something.

Tucking her bookmark in between two pages, Anna looks up at her sister. "What's up, sis?"

Elsa sits beside her, looking awfully tense. "I'm not mad about your pregnancy, you know. I'm just…worried." She says after a pregnant pause.

"What's there to worry about?" Anna replies absentmindedly, staring up at the ceiling. "Kristoff's going to be a good father, I know he will. Do you think I'll be a bad mother?"

"No!" Elsa says quickly. "No. It's…well, what if the baby has…what if the baby has the curse?"

Anna fleetingly looks over at Elsa. There's a quizzical look on her face. "But it's not _your_ baby."

"I know that," the blonde says, "but it's still going to be related to me."

"Well, if my baby has powers like yours', I'm still going to love them. Just like I love you, Elsa." Anna smiles then, and while Elsa does feel somewhat reassured, she doesn't want to take any chances.

"I love you too, Anna. But I just want your baby…I want them to not have to grow up with powers like mine. They'll grow up feeling lonely, confused…like a _freak_. And that's the last thing I want them to feel." Elsa stands up, wrapping her arms around herself. "Which is why I'm going to go and gather crystals in Holoska."

"Holoska?" Anna repeats. "But we have crystals in Arendelle."

"Yes, but we'd need to gather hundreds of them to make sure the baby is born powerless. In Holoska, the crystals are much more potent. It'll only take a few." Elsa turns away from her redheaded sister, looking out the windows several yards away. "Please, Anna. I need to do this. Not only for your baby, but for myself."

Anna stands up as well. "But…how long will you be gone? Are you travelling by boat? I don't want you to…I don't want to lose someone else."

Elsa knows exactly what she means. She knows what Anna is most fearful of; not being alone and away from her sister, but of losing her to the sea. "I don't know how long I'll be in Holoska. But I'll be back long before you're due, I promise."

Anna hesitates before answering. She twirls a stray lock of hair around her finger. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"I'm positive." Elsa turns back around to face her sister, a look of desperation on her face. "Please. Will you let me do this? Will you let me make sure that your baby isn't cursed?"

Anna furrows her eyebrows in contemplation before slowly nodding. "I…I guess so."

Elsa throws her arms around her sister, squeezing her tightly. "Thank you, Anna. You have no idea how much I appreciate this."

Anna wraps her arms around Elsa as well. "You're welcome, Elsa. Just be careful, okay?"

"You know I'll be."

The boat is ready to set sail several days later. Elsa has several of her guardsmen travelling along with her, Ulrik and Cai included.

The morning the ship is set to leave, Elsa finds herself on the dock, with Anna, Kristoff, Olaf, and Sven preparing to say their goodbyes.

"Will you bring back some cake?" Olaf asks, his eyes wide with excitement. He was disappointed at first, when Elsa told him he couldn't come along. However, once he was promised a present from Holoska, he was right back to his chipper self again. "Or maybe ice cream! Or an _ice cream cake_!"

"We'll see, little guy," Elsa laughs.

Kristoff smiles, but then diverts his attention to Elsa. "Are you sure you want to do this?" He grabs Anna's hand, intertwining their fingers together gently. "You know we'll love him no matter what, even if he's got ice powers."

"Or her," Anna corrects, smiling crookedly.

"Or her," Kristoff concedes.

Elsa nods. "I need to do this for the both of us. You and Anna may love him or her no matter what, but there's no telling what others may think of them."

Kristoff sighs. "Alright," he says, "If you're absolutely positive."

"Trust me; I tried to convince her otherwise." Anna smirks. "But there's no stopping Elsa once she sets her mind on a goal."

Elsa laughs, hugging her sister one last time. "She's right."

Kristoff ruffles Elsa's hair, awkwardly hugging her with one arm. "See you when you come back, Els."

Sven licks her face, and Olaf squeals and hugs her, too. Elsa wants to stay in this moment forever, where they're all happy and hugging, and the day is bright and sunny, and there's no fear of Kristoff and Anna's baby being cursed, and everything is right with the world.

She's hurled back into reality by Cai saying, "We're about to leave, Queen Elsa!" up and over on the deck of the boat.

"Goodbye, everyone," Elsa says, waving a bit as she starts to board the ship, "I'll miss you guys!"

"Bye, sis!" Anna says cheerfully, clinging onto Kristoff, who waves.

"Bye, Elsa! Bring back ice cream cake!" Olaf says, waving excitedly.

Once Elsa is on the deck, she finds herself looking out at her four closest friends until the boat starts to move. She stares until they turn into silhouettes, and that's when she realizes she's truly leaving, and there's no turning back.

She's fearful of the ocean, terrified of what it could bring to her.

It's not like her fear is unfounded, of course. Everyone throughout Arendelle and the surrounding Twelve Kingdoms knows of her parent's untimely demise at the rough hands of the ocean.

Elsa still wishes they had at least found their bodies.

And it's tied to one of her biggest regrets, as well – never even bothering to attend their funeral. She remembers that day all too vividly. Her powers had taken over, filling her room with crystals and ice and all things frozen. She recalls Anna knocking at her door, and the melancholy feelings that swirled in the air for what seemed like an eternity.

This is what she thinks of the first few days out on the sea. She wishes that she had brought Anna along, or at the least, Olaf. They would have been able to bring some humor and light to the trip.

"Your majesty?" Cai inquires one brisk morning, when Elsa is finally up on the upper deck of the ship, feeling the heavy winds and hearing the water slapping up against the ship.

The queen chooses not the glance at him, instead staring out into the murky depths of the ocean. "Yes, Cai?"

"We're on course to Holoska. It shouldn't be too long now. We're fortunate to take not more than a week to their docks." His voice is deep and gruff and low, and it would, perhaps, be intimidating to those who didn't know him, but Cai has been a guard since King Adgar's reign began, and Elsa trusts him.

She nods first, and then replies, "You travelled here once, didn't you?"

Cai stands beside her, leaning onto the railing of the boat. "I've travelled to Holoska many times, your majesty. Not since King Hadyn took the throne, however."

"Tell me about Holoska, please." Elsa looks over at him briefly. She sees a man with tanned, leathery skin, with dark brown eyes and hair that's more gray than black. She sees a man who she knows lost his oldest son in a skirmish on the borders of Arendelle and Weselton three-and-a-half decades ago, and another son to the harsh cold of the mountains on an expedition.

He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "It's a very secretive place nowadays. We hardly receive anything from them. Their resources are more industrialized – manmade, you could say. The last time I visited, the current King was only eight years old. Hjalmar ruled then. He was a decent enough ruler – nothing to note of him, save the excessive drinking and adoration of hunting. His wife, Irene, was more diminutive than him; she was quiet and polite, and there was nothing abnormal, nor anything extraordinary about her.

"His son, on the other hand…Hadyn was already very brash and spoiled. He was angered quite easily; it seemed like he already had a chip on his shoulder. I noticed that he wore leather gloves all the time, much like you did as a child. In retrospect, I wonder what he might have been hiding inside of him.

"You'll notice how dark Holoska is when we arrive. The country has a very bloody history. I always thought there was a gloomy air to the place. It isn't somewhere where optimism thrives, that's for sure."

A brisk chill runs down Elsa's spine. The way Cai describes it, she wishes she had just stayed behind at home and left her advisor to deal with this.

Elsa is awoken in the middle of the night, being shaken awake by Ulrik.

"Y-your majesty?" He squeaks out, "We're at Holoska."

She yawns and sits up, rubbing her eyes and clearing them of the grime. "Alright, alright," she mumbles, "Let me get dressed."

Ulrik nods and scurries out of there as quickly as possible. Elsa gets up, stretches, changes into the dress she wore for Anna's birthday party, and goes out onto the deck.

The nighttime sky is filled with stars. Constellations that the queen once read in books are shining brightly now, and it's gorgeous.

"Good morning, your majesty," Cai says. He's already wide awake, it seems. "In case you were wondering, it's only 4:45 in the morning."

"Only?" She groans.

"I'm sure that you'll be able to sleep on the way to the castle. It's a long trek by carriage."

They've already arrived at Holoska's dock, Elsa realizes. The country seems rather large, judging by what she can make out in the distance. There's no castle in sight, but there are several foreboding factories. There are smaller marketplaces near the docks, but no one has bothered to get up this early, it seems.

She clings onto Cai's arm when descending to the dock. As soon as her feet hit the wooden planks, she stops, and sighs in relief; she doesn't have to get on another boat for at least several hours.

"Queen Elsa!" She perks up at someone calling her name. Looking around, she sees a man donned in dark maroon clothing. He looks to be about as old as Ulrik, at least judging by the amount of silver in his hair. He swiftly walks over to her, bowing. "I am Vilhelm, King Hadyn's advisor and Holoska's royal correspondent."

She holds her hand out, and he firmly shakes. "It's lovely to meet you, Vilhelm."

"I must say the same about you, my Queen." Vilhelm replies, dropping his hand. "There's a carriage for you and your guards nearby. It's a long way to the castle, and not much to see right now, but I bet you'd like to get a nap in, I'm sure."

"You're reading my mind." Elsa says, smiling politely. She can see the carriage now, near a road made of cobblestone. Cai leads her to it, with Ulrik swiftly following behind her. Vilhelm, she notices, gets into a nearby carriage, with several other men in it.

Cai gets in first, with Elsa choosing to sit opposite him. Ulrik sits beside Cai, obviously too nervous to sit beside the Queen.

She glances out the window, seeing several of her guards and escorts. "Are they going to the castle, as well?"

"I suspect they'll be off to find a pub first, actually," Cai says, chuckling a little. "But eventually, yes, they'll be at the castle."

Elsa chooses not to respond, instead staring out the window as the carriage begins to move. She closes her eyes slowly, and eventually descends into sleep.

She's awoken several hours later by a rough shake of her shoulder.

"Time to get up, my Queen," Cai says gruffly. "We're at the castle."

The window provides only a miniscule view of Elsa's surroundings. Once she gets out of the carriage, however, she sees how ominous it really is.

The castle is quite a bit larger than Arendelle's, made of dark stone. She hears iron gates being closed somewhere behind her, and the neighing of several horses. The atmosphere is somewhat exaggerated by the upcoming storm that's about to commence, Elsa realizes, as the sky is full of angry storm clouds.

As she takes in a breath, two heavily-dressed guards open up the large front doors. All Elsa sees are dark-red hues, laced and intertwined with the occasional gold trimmings.

With Cai and Ulrik by her side, the ice queen walks up the steps, entering the castle. It's extremely warm, she notes, with torches lighting up the hallways. Portraits are on either side of the long, long corridor, oil paintings of kings and queens long gone.

As she traverses down the corridor, she notices the eerie silence that permeates the air. Even though the temperature is hot, she feels a shiver run down her spine.

The doors to the throne room are already opened, so wide that five men could enter at one, shoulder-to-shoulder. She sees more guards, clad in the same thick clothes that the ones at the entrance wear. They all have long spears gripped tightly in their right hands. There is a stretch of carpet that goes from the entrance to the throne itself, situated several steps above the ground.

She notices that Vilhelm is already by the throne, reading from a piece of parchment, seeming not to take notice of her entrance.

Elsa stops about halfway through the throne room, taking in her surroundings. It's a circular room, made primarily of stone. Banners hang from the air, and there are at least ten torches that encircle the room.

Ulrik quivers in fear, as if he knows there's something sinister about the kingdom – or even its king. Cai, however, is as bold as ever, his arms across his chest, standing straight up.

One of the Holoskian men by the throne speaks loudly, in a rich, grandiose voice, gathering everyone's attention. "His Majesty, King Hadyn of Holoska. The first of his name, son of Hjalmar and Irene, Gods bless their souls."

This is when Elsa finally takes notice of the king.

Hadyn is extremely tall, and lanky in build; he is at least two heads taller than Elsa, and she is fairly tall for a woman. His skin is several shades darker than Elsa's, as if he has been out in the sun quite a bit. She noticed that his hair is thick and curly, its' hue a dark copper. The crown he wears is tilted to the side a bit.

What he wears is elaborately opulent. It's made of thick, dark red silk, decorated with gold trimmings all over. His sleeves are long and open, and Elsa can see that he has a cape on, as if he's trying to make himself look as regal and physically large as possible. As Cai had noted before they arrived in Holoska, he still wears thick leather gloves, though they seem to be crafted so that his fingertips are showing. The same material seems to have been used for his boots.

He slouches on his throne, surrounded by several guards and knights. Above him hang several banners, depicting dragon silhouettes against a checkered black and red backdrop.

"Queen Elsa," he says. His voice is smooth, though he still sounds like a teenage boy. "It's a… pleasure to meet you, my lady."

Elsa can see Hadyn staring at her, as if he's never seen a woman his age before. She tilts her head up slightly, making eye contact with him. His eyes are bright green, almost startlingly so. "It's a pleasure to meet you as well, King Hadyn."

He sits up, gripping the throne's armrests. "I have heard of what happened last summer in your queendom." There's a glimmer of excitement in his eyes now, almost as if he's a little boy receiving a present from his father. "Can you really control the ice and snow?"

"Yes." Her response is slightly snippy, but it gets the point across.

"Show me." It isn't a request, Elsa notes; this is a command. "I want to see."

The blonde queen raises one eyebrow. He doesn't fear the powers that she has; in fact, he seems elated to see them. She hesitates, turning her head to Cai. He glances warily at the King for a moment, and then nods slowly, as if there's really no other choice.

She looks down at her left hand; with her right, she swirls her fingers around, creating a brisk wintery wind. A moment or three later, there's a miniature ice sculpture in her hands, one of a dragon. If she's going to use her powers, she might as well make something that could possibly please him.

His eyebrows rise up, and a grin spreads across his face. "That's fantastic!"

"For you, if you want." Elsa says.

"Guards, take it down to the kitchens. It can stay cold in the ice room, yes?" Two guards nod affirmation. One goes up to Elsa, and under Cai's steely gaze, snatches the sculpture from her hands, quickly walking off with the other into a long, dark hallway.

Cai coughs, bringing Hadyn's attention to him. "Your highness, I would appreciate it if you could please inquire next time about your guards approaching my queen."

"Yes, yes, very well," Hadyn says dismissively, waving his hand towards the man. He tilts his head back towards Elsa, smirking a bit, as if he knows something she doesn't. "Do you want to know why my Kingdom has a dragon on all our flags?"

Elsa tenses up a bit; she doesn't know exactly why, but there's an awful feeling in the pit of her stomach. "I would love to know," she lies.

The king chuckles, more so to himself than to those around him. "Dragons may not be real," he answers, "but they do possess a power that I can appreciate greatly."

"And what is that?" She says.

"I can show you." Hadyn's grin grows wider now, as if he's about to play a prank on the queen.

Vilhelm – who, Elsa notes, has been oddly silent since his introduction – stands up straighter now, his eyes going wide. "My king, I don't think this is the smartest choice to make right now—"

"Silence, Vilhelm! I am the king; I can do as I please!" There's acid in Hadyn's voice, as if he's had to use the excuse of being king many times towards his advisor.

Ulrik speaks up then. His voice is somewhat shaky, as per usual, but the words aren't at all what Elsa expected. "One who must say that he is t-the king isn't truly a…a king."

Hadyn stands up, his shoulders tense and his hands balled up tightly into fists. "What did you say to me?" He snaps, staring intensely at Ulrik.

"He's right, you know!" A distinctly feminine voice calls out from one of the many hallways.

Hadyn pauses his tirade, glancing away from Ulrik and towards the hallway. "What do you _want_ , sister of mine?"

Elsa whispers discreetly to Cai, "You never told me he had a sister."

"I didn't know." He whispers back.

Vilhelm bows his head slightly as he says, "May I present to you, Her Royal Highness, Princess Katja of Holoska. First of her name, daughter to Hjalmar and Irene, Gods bless their souls. Princess Katja, this is Her Majesty, the Queen of Arendelle."

Katja comes running out of the hallway. She's distinctly younger than Hadyn is, perhaps sixteen or seventeen at the most. Her dark hair is up in a loose bun, stray locks loosely framing her considerably pale face. Her outfit is much less elaborate than King Hadyn's is, more akin to dresses often found in Arendelle.

"Queen Elsa!" Katja exclaims, making her way towards the blonde. She curtsies awkwardly. "It's a pleasure to meet you, truly." She holds out her hand towards Elsa, who shakes it loosely. "You're prettier than the paintings show, you're like, beautiful…I mean, really pretty, gorgeous, I suppose, but—I'm sorry, I'm rambling."

Elsa chuckles softly. "It's okay."

"You're late, Princess," Vilhelm chides gently. "But your arrival might have just quelled another one of Hadyn's little…" He shrugs.

"Hadyn, you act like such a _toddler_ sometimes," Katja sighs, as if this is a regular occurrence between the two. He sneers at her in retaliation. The green-eyed girl brings her attention back to Elsa. "I'm sorry he's acting so…boorish. He's such an a—"

"Be quiet, Katja." Hadyn says. With a drawn out huff and a roll of her eyes, she complies, moving away from Elsa and up near the throne.

"As…interesting as this conversation has been," Elsa says, attempting to change the subject, "I came here for another reason."

After another steely-eyed glance at Ulrik (who looks as if he might faint at any moment), Hadyn sits back down on his throne, diverting his gaze towards Elsa. "Which is?"

"The fire crystals," she replies tersely. "I recently found out that we have a need for yours'. They are much more powerful, I hear, than any that can be found in Arendelle."

"That is correct." Hadyn confirms, pride weaving its' way through his words. "Our fire crystals are indeed quite powerful."

"Which is why I request that we be able to take several. Not _too_ many," Elsa emphasizes, "but enough that they could quell any possible powers that a child may be born with."

Hadyn's eyebrows rise slightly in disbelief. "You would choose to have a member of your family be born without powers?"

"The disadvantages that I have experienced firsthand prove that they are more trouble than they can be worth." Elsa says. "I would rather my future niece or nephew be born without the curse that I was born with."

"If you really choose to take some of Holoska's fire crystals, it will take several days. Those I have assigned to harvesting them are currently off on another expedition." Hadyn seems almost reasonable now; it's a strange contrast to the anger that was present in him only a few minutes before. "When they return, I'll send them off to harvest and gather fire crystals for you. For now, you'll merely have to stay in Holoska and wait."

"Wait?" Elsa says. "Wouldn't it be more beneficial to ship them to Arendelle rather than have my guards and I take up space in your castle?"

Haydn shakes his head in the negative. "No. I'd rather you stay. I hardly ever get visitors."

"Hmm, I wonder why," Katja says out loud, in a voice that feigns innocence. She snickers when Haydn sneers at her once more. Elsa has to restrain her own chuckles of amusement.

Vilhelm claps his hands together. "Regardless of our King's reasons, it's wonderful that you are staying, Queen Elsa. That is, if you choose to stay."

Even if it's only because she wants to put off another week on that damned boat again, Elsa nods in response. "I'd love to stay."

"Wonderful!" He says. "If you'll allow me, Queen Elsa, I'll be happy to show you to your rooms."

"Please do," she responds.

Vilhelm opens one of several doors in the throne room, revealing yet another stretched corridor. "Follow me, my Queen." With that, he starts to walk off.

Elsa turns away from the King and his sister and starts to walk away.

"Goodbye, Queen Elsa!" Katja says.

Hadyn waits a few moments. Finally, he says, "Goodbye, Queen Elsa. I will see you later to discuss the specifics of this plan of yours."

Elsa doesn't reply. She can feel two pairs of eyes on her as she leaves the throne room, and even when she's shown a guest bedroom, it feels as if they're still watching.

"You're so rude, brother," Katja chides, narrowing her eyes at her elder brother. "She must think you're gonna stab her in her sleep."

"Well, that's not in the cards, dear sister of mine," Hadyn says.

Katja frowns, folding her arms across her chest. "What do you plan to do, then? I see that look in your eyes. You want something."

"I want _her_. Think of how powerful our kingdom could be if we combined our forces. Fire and ice. Duality." Hadyn muses aloud, staring across the room, at no point in particular. "It may be the most powerful alliance – or marriage, even – that the Twelve Kingdoms have ever seen."

"Gods help us. You aren't seriously considering this, are you?" Katja exclaims.

"I am. Think about it, sister. The power I could wield…with her by my side, we'd be nigh unstoppable."

The brunette rolls her eyes. "She's too good for you. What makes you think she's interested? She must hate you now. You're so bold."

"And what about you, dear sister? Tripping over your own two feet, as well as your tongue. You must have a crush on her. What, you think she'd rather you?" Hadyn says.

Katja blushes. "Oh, shut it, brother. I don't want to waste my time talking about how I feel about her. I want to know what you plan on doing to her."

"Treat her like the queen she is, that's all. After all, she is from Arendelle. She deserves only the best." Hadyn smiles. "That includes me."

Katja scoffs at him. "You said the best, not the worst. Honestly, you're so _arrogant_ sometimes!" She huffs, storming off to her bedroom.

Hadyn shrugs, surrounded now by only his guards. "Confident, not arrogant." He murmurs.

The Queen is obviously uncomfortable by him, he notes. Katja is right in that aspect. He needs to control himself, make it so that she likes him. He needs to play his cards right, not be impulsive, like his father was.

 _My plan will work_ , Hadyn thinks, _just give it time_.

Which, of course, they have plenty of.


	4. Chapter 3

Author's Note: More of a filler chapter than anything, I suppose. Either way, enjoy. :)

* * *

It's not as if she _hates_ this Matthias guy. She only reserves her hate for a select few people. But there is something about him that makes her skeptical about everything he's said to her.

It's been several days since they first met in the desolate alleyway. The guy was too dumb to realize the guards were coming after her. He didn't even take much. No one noticed, she bets. He was paranoid.

She has to admit, though, he _is_ a pretty quick learner.

Alexis is somewhat proud of herself more than she is of him. She is, after all, the one who taught him everything he knows. Which isn't even much at this point – he's got the rudimentary basics of "being able to distract a vendor long enough for her to take something" down. But it's enough, for now, to be able to keep them from starving.

The mood outside is gloomy overall; the skies are dark and grey, foretelling a torrential downpour will be imminent. They're inside Alexis's home; Matthias sitting at the table, staring at a corner in the wall, and Alexis using the loom.

"Why don't you ever steal things that aren't food?"

His question is one that, she supposes, is legitimate. However, she likes to mess with him a bit; pretending to ponder for an obscenely long time, then giving vague, most likely false answers. It's amusing to see him try and conceal his irritation towards her. She knows he won't try and lash out at her; after all, she's the only one who'll take him in, it seems, and she's betting that he doesn't want to lose shelter.

She doesn't look towards the redhead, instead focusing on what she's creating using the loom. "Because."

There are a lot of reasons, really. For one, not even her mum ever tried to steal things that weren't food (at least, not that she knew of, anyways). Back when she was young and her family was still around, she can recall that they made a paltry amount of money by selling homemade clothes (and, looking back on it, probably mum's body, too). They could at least afford buying materials to make clothes and furniture. Second, what would she steal? A spool of thread here, some buttons there? It'd be more clutter, and Alexis doesn't want to deal with that.

She can hear Matthias sigh in irritation, and bets he's probably running his fingers through his hair. "Because why?"

"Because I don't see why I should." Alexis replies.

"You could steal thread, or buttons, or perhaps even items to start a trade with, like blacksmithing objects or furniture—"

She turns to him now, her eyes narrowed and her lips curled into a scowl. "I risk enough by stealing food. I can't fit blacksmithing stuff in my goddamn coat, I'm not going to make furniture, and everyone can make clothes."

"Not for a job," Matthias clarifies, "I mean…just for you. You need more things."

"Once you start stealin' stuff like that," Alexis says, "You want more and more, bigger and bigger. I could have a million things and I'd never be happy with myself."

He pauses, reflecting on her words. Then, slowly, he asks, "Why aren't you happy?"

"Only the rich are happy. Rich in money, or in food, or in family, or whatever." That's something that the blonde learned forever ago. It always seems like the more you have in your life, the happier you are. When you have to steal to scrape by, happiness is just as scarce as the food you have.

"What happened to your family? Why do you live all alone?"

That question is one she had hoped Matthias would never ask of her. She decides to reflect the question onto him instead. "What happened to _yours_?"

There's a pregnant pause between the two of them now; the only thing that permeates the silence are the noises outside, of the bugs and the now gentle pitter-patter of rain on the house. Alexis sees in his eyes that ages about a thousand years when she asks him that; he looks melancholy, damaged, forlorn. "I didn't belong there." He says quietly, the only response Alexis suspects she'll get from him on that subject.

Deciding to change the subject (before he darts back to her own situation), Alexis stares at him and says, "Y'know, you don't look like a Matthias."

And he doesn't, really. She doesn't know what name would suit him, though. There's something about him that just seems… _off_. She can't quite place her finger on it, but she suspects he's hiding something. Then again, most of Abaddon's residents have skeletons in their closets.

"Oh, really, now? And what do you suppose I look like?" There's a playing tone in his voice, though Alexis can tell he's just as relieved as she is to change the topic.

She twines her hands together, fingers clasped together. "That's the thing. I dunno. I've tried to figure it out, but I can't."

"Well," Matthias says, "You don't look like an Alexis, either."

And really, she _isn't_ an Alexis. Not even close. She suspects he's always known that, even if subconsciously, but she knew she blew it when she had to pause to give her goddamn name. It was her mothers' name, in all actuality.

Nonchalantly, she responds, "Everyone tells me that."

"I'm sure they do," he chuckles. She shrugs as a half-hearted reply.

There is nothing else to say after this. They go back to their own little worlds, the soundtrack to their evening the constant rain.

* * *

Hans wonders how much Alexis knows. The charade, it seems, has been on thin ice the entire time he's stayed in her home.

Then again, she's playing along with him – it's as if she has her own game going on, and they're constantly trying to see who will crack first.

The rain has stopped now, finally; it's been three days since the thunderstorms began, and only now has Hans began to see brief glimpses of the suns' rays.

Alexis likes the sun, apparently; when he commented that he saw it when he went outside earlier this morning, she opened up the shutters of the window. She seems to be in a much better mood, now that the sun is out. She hasn't come up with nearly as many sarcastic remarks as usual.

She's humming some tune that Hans can't recognize once noon strikes. He's outside, having been dying to get out of the drab, cramped home. He's several meters away from the house, but he can hear her, clear as day.

Eventually, she goes to full-on words. It's not as if her voice is grating; he just didn't realize she actually sang. Or, really, said anything other than insults and ridicule.

"I feel the soft passion pervade every part, and pleasures unusual play 'round my fond heart..." Her voice is high-pitched, a serene soprano. Hans remembers when he sang with Anna, when his plans seemed to be working perfectly, and there's a feeling like ice in his gut. All of a sudden, he wishes he had never let his mind go astray.

Trying to rid himself of his memories, he walks over to the window, leaning in just a tiny bit. "For a thief, you've got a nice voice."

Alexis turns around, and her cheeks are pinker than Hans has ever seen them. "Did I say you could listen?" She asks sharply. He notices a large bucket filled with water behind her.

He laughs. "I can't help it; you're the only one talking for miles." That's another thing about the house he finds peculiar; she doesn't live near anyone. It's the outskirts of the town, he supposes, but still. Maybe the land is cursed or something.

"I'm used to being alone, awright? I don't remember you when you're outta my sight." She's pouting just a little, but Hans suspects she doesn't realize it.

He smirks at her, and her pout turns into another worn out scowl."I never said your singing was bad, you know."

"I bet it's angelic compared to yours," She teases, "What do ya sound like? A dying cat?"

"I'm decent. But I don't sing anymore." Hans says tersely.

"Whatever, ya nosy little…" Alexis grumbles under her breath, then turns away from him. "Can ya leave me alone now? I have to bathe."

"You mean I can't watch?" He teases, the mock disappointment apparent in his voice.

She twirls around in a huff, her cheeks pink again. "I beg your pardon?"

"I was kidding. I don't want to watch." Well, deep down, he supposes he would, in a twisted sort of way. He is a man, after all, and she's at least a somewhat attractive person. He gives her a cheeky grin, however, and says, "Unless you want me to."

"You're skating on very thin ice right now," she huffs.

He grins wider. "You didn't deny it."

"Shut up!" She says. "Lemme bathe in peace."

He laughs again, and holds up his hands. "Alright, alright. I surrender." With that, he backs away, turning around so he doesn't see anything he shouldn't.

* * *

It's on a Friday when they start to steal again.

They're in one of the marketplaces, somewhere near the town square's location. The skies are grey once more, though not nearly as dark as they were a while back, despite it being the evening. People are walking, shoulder-to-shoulder, the area dense with men, women, and children.

Hans believes they must look like quite the odd duo: a man with bright red hair and a girl who resembles a child when she puts on that hood of hers'. It's not like they have any particular agenda either today; they're aimlessly ambling on in the market, looking for someone who seems gullible enough to steal from.

"Are you lost in yer thoughts again?" Alexis asks, tilting her head to look up at him.

He shrugs loosely, taking long strides down the market that Alexis has to struggle to catch up with. "Sort of."

She jabs him with a bony arm playfully. "Well, get outta 'em, because I found someone to screw over."

Hans stands up straight. "Where?" He asks.

"In a few meters. The bread and fruit stand. You distract, I'll steal." Her words are concise, but they hold so much. They both know what will happen if they don't pull this off perfectly. He nods in response.

The stand is ran by a man with thinning, snow white hair. His eyes are almost devoid of color, and his skin is nearly as pale as his hair. Hans makes eye contact with him, and the thrill of what's to come sends a shiver down his spine. "Excuse me, sir?"

The man is obviously not used to those as young as Hans coming to visit him; his eyes glimmer with the prospect of a sale. He draws his full attention to the redheaded exile. "What is it, m'boy?"

"I'd, um, like to know your prices, if you're willing to tell me," he ad-libs, throwing in a wicked smile for good measure. "I hear you've got better bargains than the others, is that correct?"

"Helluva lot better than what everyone else'll offer you. They expect too much for only a half a loaf of bread." They got lucky this time around; this man is a rambler. "Not to mention, their loaves are burnt and unfulfilling. They'd be better off going in the slop pile for a pig. I promise you, these are the same fare that the king and queen would eat…"

He goes off on the types of bread he has, what sorts of fruit he sells, and tries to convince Hans to buy now. It's a long spiel, and Hans suspects the baker doesn't have many people to talk to. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Alexis carefully snatching up what she can; a loaf of bread here, an apple or an orange there. She quickly places them inside a basket they had found when Hans had first started his thievery lessons; it was on the side of a road, and, hey, it may have been worn out, but it was usable, and it was valuable to them, and it helped an awful lot.

Eventually, several minutes later, Alexis tugs on Hans' hand sharply. "Oh, honey," she says in a sickening honey-sweet voice, "We have to get home soon; you _know_ how my sister will be if we keep her watching the kids for long…" It's all a part of the routine; make it seem like they're a couple, or a pair of friends, or brother and sister, so it won't seem too suspicious when they scurry off. "C'mon, we can buy food tomorrow; I just needed some spools of thread."

Hans notices that she has carefully positioned the basket out of the old man's sight. He nods, then says, "I'm sorry for the interruption, sir. My wife's quite impatient, as you can see." He makes a pointed glance towards the blonde.

With a cheerful wave of his hand, the old man replies, "Bah, nothing to apologize for. Women are always impatient; Gods know my wife sure as hell is."

"I'll come back tomorrow, and we can arrange a deal then," Hans lies.

"Sure thing, m'boy. Have a nice day."

With that, the two swiftly walk away from the vendor. When they're out of his eyesight and out of earshot, Hans snickers. "'Honey'?"

"Oh, shut yer gob. Couples always say that sort of bull." Alexis nearly has a spring in her step now. "Had to make it believable, didn't I?"

"Or maybe you're secretly desiring me," Hans teases, a crooked grin on his face. "Do I need to propose to you, _honey_?"

"Like you could afford a damn ring."

Hans laughs. "You'd probably sell it the first chance you got."

"'Course I would. D'you know how much food we could get with a ring? Maybe even some more clothes, or candles, or an _actual_ bed…" Alexis seems almost giddy with the thought.

He cocks his head at her as they traverse down the marketplace. "You've never had a real bed, have you?"

"Not that I can remember." She replies. "You know how much I got from that ol' geezer?"

"I was more preoccupied with distracting him, so no," Hans says.

"We'll be eatin' like royalty for the next two days. Bread and fruit and I snitched a bottle of whiskey from a stall nearby." Alexis gives him a cocky grin. "You ever drink, pretty boy?"

They finally leave the market, heading towards the outskirts of the town. The roads become more dirt than cobblestone at this point, and the crowds begin to become only a person or two here or there. "Once or twice. Never whiskey, however; it was always fine wine for me." Hans says breezily.

"Whiskey's the good shit. It makes you forget."

Hans doesn't know what to say to that.

The rest of the trip is in relative silence afterwards. Hans opens the curtains for Alexis, who quickly ducks into the home. She puts the basket on the table, taking out the contents; two loaves of bread, several fruits, the purported bottle of whiskey.

"Like royalty, eh?" Hans says, smirking as he sits down on a chair.

"Hell yeah," Alexis responds cheerfully. "Next thing you know, they'll be givin' us crowns and we'll be livin' in the damn castle."

Hans smiles, not wanting to remember growing up in a castle of his own. He rips off a small hunk of bread from one of the loaves. It's fluffy and thick, with a crisp golden crust, nothing like what he's eaten since he ran out of money.

"Don't you wanna eat?" He asks, taking a bite.

She shakes her head. "Nah, not right now. I will take the whiskey though," she says, scooping it up, opening it, and taking a large swig.

"Careful, now. You don't want to get drunk." Hans advises.

Alexis eyes him warily. "Maybe I do."

"Why?" He asks, cocking an eyebrow.

"I have a lot of reasons," Alexis replies, sitting down with her legs crossed on her makeshift bed of straw. "None of which are any of yer business."

There's not enough whiskey to get shitfaced drunk, Hans finds out, but she certainly is a bit tipsy. She's in the corner, where her straw bed is, and her hood is down as she says seemingly out of the blue remarks and words.

"Y'know," Alexis hiccups, not really looking at Hans, "I had this brother, once."

"Really, now?" Hans says, only half paying attention.

"Mhm. His name as Alfonse. He was…he looked like me, y'know? Like, with, like…th' hair…and th' eyes…" She rambles on, seeming not to care whether or not he's actually listening. "Ma always liked him best, of course…he could farm, and he was nice-lookin', and all that bullshit. She got so sad when he died. I mean, she wouldn't give a damn if I croaked, but it goes t'show you, I guess…"

"That's rather sad, don't you think?" He says half-heartedly.

"My whole _life_ is sad. Fuck, I wish I was born a royal, or somethin'. Y'think I'd make a pretty princess?" She sighs, closing her eyes and stretching her legs. "I'm tired."

Hans looks over at her. "Go to sleep, then."

"But it's _cold_." _The way she says it_ , Hans thinks, _you'd think we were in the middle of a blizzard._

"That's a shame, then, isn't it?" He says. "Pull your hood over your head. It helps you generate body heat when you cover your head."

"Come over here and keep me warm. Jus' for tonight. Please?" Alexis draws out the 'please' so that it sounds more like a toddler whining than an actual word. "If ya do, I won't call y'shithead for, like, another week."

Hans sighs and gets up. "You're so generous." It's getting late, after all, and despite her complaints, it really is rather drafty in here. With a slight twinge of amusement, he wonders if Elsa caused another winter disaster somewhere in Abaddon. However, the thought of her, of anything Arendelle-related, immediately leaves a chunk of ice (ironically) in his stomach. He makes his way towards the drunken grey-eyed girl, sitting down beside her.

She immediately leans her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes. "Thanks."

"Yeah, sure," Hans says nonchalantly.

"Body heat is warmth. Don't think I'm gettin' all soft on ya." She says drowsily.

Hans smiles. "If you say so, Alexis."

"Shuddup, shi –Matthias." The blonde yawns, rubs her eyes, and then promptly seems to fall asleep.

Reluctantly, Hans closes his eyes, drawing his knees up to his chest and draping his arms across them. Though the lingering thought of Arendelle still freely roams about in his head, he dreams not of Elsa, but of Anna and Alexis.

He and Alexis are in a marketplace. The outer edges of his vision are blurred, he notes dully. Anna is running some sort of ice stall, and when she's looking away, Alexis somehow manages to shove five ice blocks in their basket. When he looks down at the basket, he sees a box of some sort. Alexis hands it to him, and when he opens it, he sees a beating heart.

Gasping, he drops the box, looking up at Anna and her stall. Her chest is ripped open where her heart would be.

"Why?" Is all Anna says before falling to the ground with a dull thump. Alexis seems not to notice, but instead keeps trying to pile ice inside the basket.

The marketplace turns from a dreary grey to a pristine snow-covered landscape. Hans is panicking now; he tries to find someone to help Anna, but it seems like the quicker he moves, the farther away other people get. Eventually, he falls to the ground as well, and this is when he wakes up, a cold sweat coating his skin and his heart beating as if he ran for miles.

Needless to say, Hans does not get much sleep that night.


End file.
